A Christmas Carol
by Writing2Death
Summary: Arthur thought that his sudden inability to get to sleep had something to do with the fact that it was the night before Christmas. He never really liked Christmas; it was all kind of pointless. And, as usual, Arthur learns the hard way. Preslash, Merthur.


Title: A Christmas Carol  
Author: Writing2Death  
_Date_: December 25, 2009  
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin, Arthur/Gwen  
Word Count: 4,387 words  
Warnings: Spoilers for all of Series One, Spoilers for early Series two, general fluff  
Summary: The problem, Arthur thought, was that there was no point to Christmas. Everyone was way too cheerful for no reason and there were stupid things like Holly and Mistletoe. If he could get out of the holiday he would because that was the only way he'd be cheerful. Plus, he thought grumpily, it was messing with his sleeping patterns.  
Disclaimer: I definitely don't own Merlin or any of the characters in the show, even if I wish I did (and wouldn't that be just the best Christmas present?). I also don't own A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens or any of the countless adaptations that have been done for it. In addition to this growing list, I don't own the poem T'was the Night Before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore from which sections are used at the beginning and the end of the one-shot.

Also, this story is dedicated to my friend Maggie because without her, it probably wouldn't have been finished.

Now, it's still technically Christmas where I live so I'm still technically within my time limit to post this. Please read, review, and enjoy!

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**-- A Christmas Carol --**

_T'was the night before Christmas  
__And all through the castle  
__Not a creature was stirring  
__Except for...  
__A prince?_

Arthur just could not sleep. It wouldn't grace him, for whatever reason. He tossed and turned but no matter how tightly he twisted himself up in the covers, his mind just wouldn't fall into sleep. So, he lay on his back, frustrated and staring at the ceiling.

It was a high ceiling and very -- _why_ was he staring at the ceiling, again? With a heavy sigh, he sat up and reached for the candle by his bedside. When there was a little light in the room, he passed a tired hand over his face - he didn't understand it. He'd never had trouble sleeping; having trouble sleeping was a sign of weakness. Conversely, sleeping too deeply was a sign of weakness. He thought it was all rather unfair. After all, here he was thinking about sleep, but unable to fall asleep.

When the room was glowing decently in the candlelight, Arthur stood and stretched. If he couldn't sleep, he might as well do something productive. So, he sat at the table and absentmindedly drew small pictures. He felt a little pathetic, though, sitting in his room by himself. Giving up on the non-existent pictures on the table, he got up and stared out the window.

He thought that his sudden inability to get to sleep might have something to do with the fact that it was the night before Christmas. Arthur never really liked Christmas. It seemed kind of like a pointless holiday to him. Everyone was so cheerful for no reason and they (and by _they_ he meant Morgana) hung stupid things like Holly and Mistletoe. Honestly, did she know how awkward it was to be stuck under the mistletoe with _Gaius_?! (That had happened last year and Arthur was very embarrassed because Morgana just_ would not_ stop laughing.)

He sighed, still staring out at Camelot, illuminated by starlight, and decided he didn't want to think about Christmas anymore. It was stupid anyway.

ARG! _Why couldn't he fall asleep?!_

He wanted to scream, really.

About an hour ago, when he was still finding amusement out of staring at the ceiling, he decided that it would have been insensitive and unfair to wake Merlin just because he was bored.

Right. He didn't care anymore.

----

Okay, so Arthur had a new appreciation for Merlin picking out his clothes in the mornings because this was just stupid, really. Giving up, he pulled out the first things he could find and put them on. He just hoped he didn't look ridiculous. He threw on his red jacket and sighed before throwing open the door to his chambers.

And then he froze.

And he froze because Merlin (who he'd just been going to wake up) was standing there, leaning casually against the wall, wearing a very un-Merlin-like smirk.

"Merlin?" It was out of his mouth before he could stop it. Arthur was so shocked that it didn't even have any sarcasm to it.

"Arthur," Merlin acknowledged, still smirking.

"I... didn't think you were sleeping in the ante-chamber tonight." Arthur hedged, still feeling a little surprised.

"I'm not." Merlin answered.

"Are you all right?" Arthur asked, half exasperated and half annoyed. Why in the world was Merlin lurking outside his rooms?

"Arthur, tonight you need to re-examine yourself. You've no Christmas Spirit. "

Okay... what?! This couldn't be Merlin. Arthur, wearing his best 'what the hell?' face, peered at him, "Have you been at the mead, Merlin?"

Merlin didn't seem fazed. In fact, Arthur thought, he didn't seem very Merlin-like at all. There was no witty sarcasm, no incessant talking, and no stupid comments (that Arthur pretended to hate).

"Tonight, Arthur Pendragon, you will be visited by three Christmas Spirits in order to restore your Christmas Spirit."

"_What _are you talking about?!"

Merlin's insanely blue eyes peered at him and then he smiled. "Just listen to them, Arthur." This might've been a normal Merlin-thing to say if not for what happened afterward.

The lights went out. It was like every single candle in the room was suddenly blown out by a non-existent gust of wind.

Okay, so now he was pretty sure that hadn't been Merlin. Also, he was just a little scared. But he'd never admit it.

He fumbled for the nearest candle and lit it. When there was a dim glow in the room again, he sighed. The Strange non-Merlin was gone. Okay, so sorcery? Probably.

Forget going to wake Merlin, he clearly needed to go and sound the warning bells.

The only problem with that plan was that when he turned around, he very nearly had a heart attack. He was staring face to face (well maybe not, he though afterward, because she was considerably shorter than him) with Morgana. Except it wasn't really Morgana because she was ten years old.

So, how could this night get any weirder?!

"Who the hell are you?" Is what he found coming out of his mouth. Of course, he didn't mean it exactly like that - he clearly knew this was Morgana, having grown up with her - but _really!_

Morgana smiled and it was exactly the same smile that gave him the loving annoyance that he hated day after day. "Arthur, you know who I am."

"I do?"

This was not going the way he wanted it to.

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."

"Are you _kidding_ me?!"

And the Ghost of Christmas Past/ ten-year-old Morgana fixed him with a glare. It was _so_ the same glare Morgana gave him just that morning. "Arthur Pendragon, were you not _warned_ of my coming?"

"Well, yes!" Arthur said exasperatedly because this was just getting silly now.

"Well then, shut up and listen to what I have to say!" She even _sounded_ like Morgana! "And it's a good thing you're already dressed, however hideously, because we all know Morgana's impatient, don't we?"

Arthur wasn't even sure anymore because was Morgana or the Ghost really talking about herself in the third person or...? And he thought he looked perfectly acceptable!

"Well, what do you want me to do then?" He asked, giving up. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he had fallen asleep after all.

Morgana (because screw this, he was _not _thinking of her as the 'Ghost of Christmas Past') smirked in an infuriating way. "You have no Christmas Spirit."

"Thanks," Arthur said sarcastically, still not quite able to believe what was happening. "I've been told."

"Did you know it stemmed in your childhood?" She asked, seemingly needing to best him. He glared at her (and silently scolded himself - was he arguing with a ten-year-old?)

"Didn't everything?" He found himself responding.

Then he felt a small hand wrap around his and he looked down. Morgana had taken his hand. He stared at her for a minute and she smiled at him. For a moment, he was very sure he'd gone back in time because she was so real, exactly like Morgana had been at that age, all blue-grey eyes and flowing hair with chubby ten-year-old cheeks.

And then, of course, something had to ruin it. When Arthur looked up again, he was definitely not in the ante-chamber of his rooms. "Erm..."

"This is Christmas Eve fifteen years ago." Morgana explained. He thought it was a little creepy that she was about ten in appearance and yet had all the sass of the Morgana he loved and hated all at the same time.

"So... why are we here?"

Morgana looked at him like he was stupid. "Pay attention!" She hissed.

So, giving up and deciding that this was a really, really strange dream, he did.

And he saw himself at the age of five. He had chubby cheeks, too, he thought and couldn't suppress a smile. Blond hair, blue eyes; well he certainly didn't lose any of his charm over the years. And then he was frowning. "Isn't this supposed to be Christmas?" He asked.

Little Morgana sighed and rolled her eyes dramatically, "Yeeesss," She said, drawing out the word.

It didn't look like Christmas. Arthur was there, with a nursemaid that he didn't remember, but that was it. Then again, he thought rather bitterly, Christmas had never really been Christmas. Because he was Crown Prince of Camelot and his father was King Uther, and who _really_ had time for Christmas anyway? This just proved it; Christmas was clearly a stupid holiday.

"Your father was always a little too busy for you, wasn't he?" Morgana said and Arthur frowned, wishing he could deny that.

Little Arthur and the nursemaid were playing in the room that he did remember, seeing as he spent quite a bit of time there when he was little. It didn't even look like playing, though. It looked like the nursemaid was half-heartedly tolerating him. "Where are my friends, the boys that used to play with me?" He found himself asking.

Morgana looked at him in a slightly condescending way and he hated her. How could she be Ghost of Christmas Past if she was so patronizing all the time? And, not for the first or last time that night, Arthur could possibly see why Merlin called him a prat every other minute.

"They're with their families, their _servant-families_," Morgana stressed.

Arthur sighed. This was supposed to make him like Christmas? Because it wasn't working. All he discovered so far was that he was lonely as a child (which he already knew and didn't really appreciate being reminded) and that he _really didn't like Morgana_.

Little Morgana turned and started walking. Feeling a little helpless, a feeling Arthur discovered he really didn't like, he followed her. "So basically you're telling me that even at that age I didn't have any friends because I was Prince."

Morgana smiled a little sadly, "It's a cruel world," she answered. "But you knew that. All your life, everyone's sucked up to you, you've had servant after servant who've done nothing but bootlick."

Arthur felt like he should protest but everything she'd said so far was true.

"But you didn't ask for this, did you, Arthur?"

That jarred something in him. No, that little boy didn't ask to be Prince but it's not like he'd had a _bad_ life. His father did love him, no matter how absent he might have been. And Arthur did understand because he'd be sitting on that throne one day, making the same types of decisions. Sighing, he turned back to Morgana, passing a hand over his face. He wasn't sure what she was trying to tell him.

As if he'd asked the question out loud, she responded, "Think about it, Arthur. I'm not going to spell it out for you."

----

Suddenly, without warning, he was back in his chambers, lying in his bed. Unsteadily, he reached to light the candle at his bedside for the second time that night.

Okay, so that was just about the weirdest dream ever. It wasn't often that Arthur had nightmares (another sign of weakness to add to the growing list), and he wasn't even sure he could describe that as a nightmare but it did leave him with some things to think about. Apparently Morgana (because, even if it was a dream she was not the _Ghost of Christmas Past_ because that was just ridiculous) wouldn't just hand him the answer. He needed to figure this out for himself.

So... even though he was lonely as a child, his life still turned out well? Was that the message or was he missing something else entirely? Because he was pretty sure he already knew that. Also, how in the world did that relate to Christmas in anyway?

When the lights flickered again, Arthur half-heartedly got out of bed, warily awaiting the next Ghost because, apparently, he'd not woken up yet.

Guinevere, with a kind smile, was the one to appear before him this time. Somewhere in the back of his mind he really wondered exactly why the Ghosts decided it would be a good idea to take on the appearance of his friends - or, at least, people he knew - because it was getting rather annoying.

Still smiling, the Guinevere-alike said, "I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present." Without any preamble, and wasn't that just out of character?

A little tiredly now, Arthur responded without heat, "And what do you have to show me?" He asked.  
Gwen took his hand as Morgana had, "Come with me," she said. It lacked the magic, though, the dramatic flair Morgana had brought to the dream (which just kept getting stranger...). They walked through the ante-chamber and through the corridors of the castle, hand in hand.

Now, this was weirder than the Little Morgana. It was weirder because it was Guinevere and Arthur was pretty sure he had feelings for Guinevere. Even in the dream, she had kind brown eyes and the cute smile... He forced himself to stop thinking these things because there was something else there, at the back of his mind, nagging. He squashed those thoughts, too, because they were worse.

They stopped outside Morgana's rooms. Arthur, feeling as though he'd really had enough of Morgana for one night, sighed heavily. Somehow, (because it was Gwen, supplied his traitorous brain) something kept him from complaining.

Gwen pushed the door open. The sight that greeted them was the real Gwen herself, and Morgana. They were hugging and Morgana smiled at her. "So the point of this...?" Arthur asked, genuinely curious.

"Gwen has no one left but Morgana." Gwen said (and that was really weird). "Yet..."

The real Gwen handed Morgana something. It was wrapped neatly in a spare bit of cloth and Morgana opened it carefully.

Arthur never did get to see what was inside because the Gwen-alike had grabbed his hand again. He was a little touched by what he saw, he admitted, if only to himself. That was nice of Gwen to think of Morgana at Christmas time, especially now that her father was gone. But what exactly was the point of showing him this?

"Where are we going now?" He asked instead, knowing Gwen wouldn't answer his question.

She just smiled at him. This Ghost, Arthur thought, was a lot more convincing than the Merlin that was outside his room, because that had been a horrible impression of Merlin. Except for the end. Again, he found himself having to squash thoughts he'd rather not think about.

TheyN climbed a set of stairs and Arthur had a sinking feeling that he might know where they were going after all. And that he might not be able to squish the thoughts any longer. Approximately two minutes later, he found that he was right because Gwen had stopped right in front of Gaius' door.

Arthur almost let the whine escape him but, even though he knew this wasn't Gwen, he couldn't bring himself to do something so undignified in front of her, even if this was the most screwed up dream he'd ever had. Gwen opened the door, which somehow, was unlocked.

The scene that greeted him was Gaius and Merlin sitting at the table, eating dinner. They were both smiling. And there was a pause.

Arthur definitely felt creepy doing this. Watching himself was one thing, watching Gwen give Morgana a gift was another but watching (and listening) to Gaius and Merlin having a private conversation was on a whole other level that he wasn't completely comfortable with.

"You miss your mother," Gaius said, smiling slightly.

Merlin scoffed in the way that always told Arthur that he'd completely hit the mark, even if Merlin didn't want him to know that. Apparently Gaius knew that too because he gave Merlin _the look_, which no one wished to be on the receiving end of.

Merlin sighed, "She's never been alone for Christmas," he said.

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Gaius said kindly; in a fatherly way that kind of made Arthur's heart ache just a little bit.

Merlin smiled blindingly because he was always one to look on the bright side of things. "I should write her a letter." He declared.

"Hmm," Gaius hummed, looking vaguely amused.

Arthur smiled to himself a little. He could feel Gwen looking at him, "What?" He asked incredulously, "Am I not allowed to smile?"

Gwen grinned.

----

When Arthur suddenly awoke for the second time in his chambers he thought that maybe he was getting the hang of this Christmas Ghosts thing. Firstly, he wasn't gasping for breath and shaking this time, which was a very good sign (mostly because those were both things that also belonged to the weakness list). Secondly, he knew that he probably wasn't awake now either and now he knew what to expect. If the previous Ghosts were anything to go by and if this strange dream had any sort of pattern to it, the Ghost of Christmas Future or something equally ridiculous was to come next.

So, he was supposed to be learning about the Christmas Spirit. When he was wishing he could fall asleep, he wasn't expecting a dream that made him do so much thinking. But, he thought maybe he was slowly piecing it all together.

There was definitely something there, with Christmas. Maybe it wasn't completely pointless. He thought of his own experiences with Christmas, however sad they might have been, and he thought of Gwen and Morgana, and Merlin and Gaius. Maybe having a time of the year to just bring people together wasn't such a bad thing after all. It certainly didn't harm anything. Still, he thought, frowning, he felt like he was missing a crucial part of the message.

He didn't bother getting out of bed this time, when the light extinguished itself after he lit it for the third time that night. He wasn't scared anymore (not that he ever was because Arthur didn't get _scared)_. But he did force himself to sit up after a moment.

He was expecting it to follow a pattern but when the third Ghost didn't introduce themselves, Arthur couldn't help but be a little wary. After all, dream or not, it certainly felt real.

When the darkness lifted this time, it didn't lift fully. It hung in the air like ink. He slowly rolled out of bed as his eyes adjusted to the dark, on guard. He couldn't help himself from tensing.

When he turned around (because this seemed to be the Spirits' favourite way of allowing him to see them) he was looking down into the eyes of Mordred. He looked exactly the way he had when Arthur had seen him last, helped him to escape from Camelot. The way he was looking at him made Arthur's flesh prickle.

"I suppose you're the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, yeah?" He tried.

Unsuccessfully, apparently, because Mordred just continued to stare at him.

And then he started walking. He did not take Arthur's hand like the previous two Ghosts and Arthur wasn't sure if he was glad for this break in pattern or if it predicted worse things to come.

He followed the boy through the winding halls of the castle, down the steps, and out into the courtyard. It was cold and misty and Arthur was glad he'd had the foresight to shrug on his jacket. Somehow, Arthur understood that Mordred wasn't taking him any farther.

He walked ahead alone, the snow crunching under his boots, and Mordred stayed behind, watching.

In the middle of the courtyard were two figures. He recognized them as he came closer. He would have recognized Guinevere in his sleep and the other was – Lancelot. Arthur swallowed thickly, realizing where this vision was leading almost instantly. He stopped where he was, close enough to be within hearing range of the couple.

They were embracing, whispering to each other.

" -- Arthur can never find out ," Gwen said softly, "I'd never forgive myself."

Lancelot nodded, looking grim, "No," he agreed. "I love and respect him too much for that."

Arthur forced himself to look away. He had no desire to see this, if this is what the future brought. What did this teach him? That he fell in love with the wrong people?

He turned to tell Mordred to let him go, to return him to the castle but he found himself lost in another scene.

He was in the throne room and Mordred stood behind him again, just as silent. Arthur was looking at himself, this time about fifteen years older. He was on the throne, a crown on his head, his father's crown and he was smiling softly. There were people everywhere. It was clearly some type of feast (perhaps the Christmas feast?). Guinevere sat by his side, wearing the Queen's crown. Merlin was there as well, looking the same as ever, wearing clothes that were well above the status of a manservant; he'd moved up in rank.

Older Arthur was oblivious, he discovered, because he either was choosing to ignore the eyes that Guinevere and Lancelot were making at each other or he genuinely didn't know. He wasn't sure which was worse, either.

Merlin wasn't though. He almost looked pained, Arthur thought, and he could almost imagine how that felt. He knew that he must have felt like he was put in the middle, having to choose between friends. It was clear, here, which side Merlin had chosen.

Arthur felt a surge of affection for him because Merlin was the most stupidly loyal person he knew and Arthur really hoped that would never change.

He drew back so that he was level with Mordred, "Is this what will happen?" He asked.

Mordred didn't say anything as he looked at him, his blue eyes creepy, but Arthur understood. It was as if he could hear him in the silence.

This _was_ the future. This was the outcome that was probable and predictable. It didn't have to be but unless he drastically changed his actions, which Arthur knew he wouldn't, it would be. And he thought that maybe he finally understood the last message, the vital piece.

----

Arthur jolted awake with his heart hammering a tattoo against his ribs. The moonlight was still shining through the window and this told him it was still the middle of the night.

He understood, finally.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that it hadn't been a dream, that it had been as real as it had felt. But that wasn't what he was thinking about.

The experience was supposed to have been about Christmas Spirit.

Arthur sprung out of bed because he had to do this _right now_. He still wasn't sure whether he had what everyone seemed to be calling 'Christmas Spirit' but he did know that he gained something that he couldn't put into words that night. Because, he discovered, friendship was probably the key to Christmas Spirit anyway, wasn't it?

He was still wearing the clothes he dressed himself in as he tore down the corridors of the castle (which definitely weren't as empty as they had been when he was walking through them with the Ghosts, Arthur thought strangely) and climbed the steps, just as he had done with the Gwen-alike only a few hours before.

Breathless, he stopped in front of Gaius' door. He hesitated; would they be asleep? They hadn't been when he was there with Gwen but he wasn't entirely sure time worked the same way now that he was 'awake'.

Finally, Arthur decided that this was important enough and knocked on the door.

It was opened a moment later by Merlin whose already confused face just became more so when he saw Arthur. "Um, Arthur?" He asked, as if he wasn't sure. He had an ink smudge on his nose and was holding a quill in one hand, like he'd been just writing a letter to someone.

Suddenly, Arthur wasn't quite sure what he wanted to say because words didn't quite cover everything. Merlin glanced behind him to a sleeping Gaius and quietly shut the door. "Are you okay?" he asked, sounding concerned.

Arthur scoffed, suddenly smiling. "Of course."

Merlin looked him over and paused, "Did you dress yourself?"

Arthur looked down at himself and blushed. But only a little. "Yes." He ground out. "What's wrong with the way I'm dressed?"

Merlin smirked but this time, Arthur thought, remembering the Merlin-alike at the start of this whole mess, it was a very Merlin-like smirk.

"Oh, nothing," he was saying.

"There is _nothing_ wrong with the way I'm dressed." Arthur insisted.

"Hmm," Merlin agreed, smiling. "I didn't say there was. I definitely agreed with you."

Arthur rolled his eyes. Merlin rarely agreed because Merlin usually liked to make things difficult, especially for Arthur. But he felt himself smiling all the same because Merlin's smile was infectious.

"So..." Merlin hedged after a few seconds of silence, "It's about one in the morning... Is there any particular reason you called on me?"

Arthur smirked for a second, "Honestly, _Mer_lin, not everything's about you, you know. What if I'd been coming to see Gaius?"

"What, did you bring mistletoe?" Merlin laughed and Arthur was going to _kill_ Morgana when he saw her next.

"Shut up." Arthur said and he was definitely _not_ blushing this time. "I just wanted to say," swallowing thickly now and smiling, "Happy Christmas."

Merlin's resulting smiled almost blinded him.

The problem was, Arthur thought later, when he was coherent enough to think again, that everything about Merlin was endearing, from his epic clumsiness and his inability to shut up to his pair of unfortunate ears and his bright blue eyes. And he had learned recently that it was possible to love more than one person because love could take all different forms. But Merlin was grinning at him so currently, he wasn't thinking much of anything.

"Happy Christmas to you too, Arthur." He said sounding sincere in only the way Merlin could.

And if the thought that he might just be a little bit stupidly in love with Merlin crossed Arthur's mind at that moment, he could only embrace it.

_And happy Christmas to you  
__And to all a good night!_

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**Author's Note:**

Okay, so this story marks a lot of firsts for me. It's the first fanfiction story I've ever finished :D and it's also the first Christmas One-shot I've ever written. Also, the first story without any original characters and the very first slash pairing I've written for. I really hoped everyone liked it. If there are any mistakes, please point them out because I will be only too happy to correct them. And, as always, reviews are equivalent to love! Thanks for reading! - Writing2Death


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